


New Old Days

by BrokenBookAddict



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 1x05, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fighting, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Light Angst, Love, Memories, Partners to Lovers, Past Relationship(s), Philinda - Freeform, Romance, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sparring, partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 23:34:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21107816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenBookAddict/pseuds/BrokenBookAddict
Summary: Things are understandably different now. They've been through too much and seen much more. Despite that, things have now changed once again.





	New Old Days

**Author's Note:**

> Obvious disclaimer where I state I do not own Marvels agents of shield. 
> 
> Set around/after 1x05.

When she reaches her destination that is the cargo bay, it's to find it not as empty as she imagined it would be this late at night. Standing at the top of the spiral staircase, she looks down and watches him from her position above. His every hit against the bag is heavy and hard, his rythmn steady and focused. He's dressed in workout clothes, navy shorts with a dark grey tee that clings to his back and he's barefoot.

Beneath his feet, the mats are spread out across the floor.

After a further few moments of observation, one by one, May slowly descends the stairs. When she reaches his side, she steps up to hold the bag but he shakes his head and stops, breathing heavy.

"Can't sleep?" May asks quietly, looking him over as he begins to unwrap his hands.

Coulson shakes his head, dropping the wrapping to the floor once done, flexing his fingers afterwards. "Thought I'd take you up on your offer."

"My offer?" She glances towards the mats under their feet. "To go a few rounds?"

He smirks right back at her. "If you think you can handle it."

Rolling her eyes, May turns away. Walking to the center of the mats, she turns to him in silent challenge.

Taking a sip of the water he'd brought down with him, he holds her gaze as he makes her wait. Finally, he drops the bottle to move into position opposite her.

And so the dance begins.

They move around the mats, circling each other, watching every move the other makes. Everything about this dance is calculated, from how they assess each other to the situation. He may be a little rusty by his own admission but still, he's ready when she strikes suddenly. There's an elegance to how they move, her graceful, him not so much as they trade blows. The blows they trade are not as hard as they would be if an enemy attacked but it's hard enough, it gets their blood pumping, their adrenaline spiking as they find and fall into a rythmn.

They haven't done this in years, not since before her marriage because back then things had been different. They'd been different. She hadn't experienced the haunting events of Bahrain and he hadn't died and visited the magical beaches of Tahiti. They were not the only significant differences though.

But they fall back into it with ease.

For Coulson, though he gives as good as he gets, he still finds himself pinned more often than not. Which isn't a surprise. 

Around and around they go, trading blows, blocks and pins. Time slides by without notice as the clock passes one in the morning.

When Coulson shifts his weight allowing him to try out a new trick, May's legs are taken out from beneath her. He straddles her quickly, fingers curling around her wrists to pin her against the floor. She tries to fight back, to wriggle free but any attempt is futile because his weight keeps her trapped in place. They pause in that position, each breathing heavy from the effort.

It's quiet between them for a while as they take a moment to steady their breathing.

"So--" he starts, breaking the silence between them as his eyes flicker over her face, taking her in. "When you said like the old days, did you mean it?"

"Phil..." she stops, not wanting to go any further instead choosing to throw the ball back into his court. It allows him to make whatever the next move will be without allowing herself the vulnerability. She can't let that happen, not yet, not until she knows what he's thinking. Besides he started this. 

She doesn't have to wait long to find out.

"Because I've missed the old days."

It's such a simply statement but it holds so much weight because they both know exactly what this means.

Truth be told, so has she. She's missed it, so very much. Her marriage had changed it all though. It had been an attempt to have a normal life outside of shield. It had also been an attempt at distancing herself away from her ever growing feelings for her best friend and partner, when things had began to spiral out of control. Both attempts had been resulted in obvious failures. She should have known. 

She watches him now instead of replying, waiting for his next move, because whatever comes next has to be his move. 

Coulson shifts above her, using his right knee to nudge apart her legs so he's able to settle between her thighs. His hands release their hold on her wrists to move to her face. Where gentle fingers trace along her jawline, brush over her cheeks.

There's a fraction of a moment where they pause, where their eyes connect and hold before he drops his head down. His lips meet hers and it's like all the years since they did this last falls away and disappear. It's familiar and burning and it ignites a fire between them that quickly builds into a blazing inferno.

There's no hesitation as they pull each other closer to fall into the motions, hands seek and discover, pulling at clothing until the material is thrown aside carelessly as bare skin is freed. There's a halt in proceedings when his t-shirt is discarded, he's sat back on his knees with May before him. When he opens his mouth to say something, he's halted from doing so when she shakes her head. She's breathless and without words when she's confronted by the evidence of his death head on. A rush of feeling hits her as she remembers back to when she'd found out he was gone. It's almost as overwhelming now as it was then and she fights to push it away. Those haunting memories have no place here. She reaches out to rest her hands upon his chest and she finds him solid beneath her palms. He's alive and he's here with her. Under her touch she feels his heart beat. Leaning forward, she meets his gaze for a spilt second before pressing her mouth to his scar. Her lips rest at the top before brushing along the length.

All the air leaves his lungs in a rush at the gesture, his heart thuds heavy in his chest.

He cups her face to bring her mouth back to his.

After that everything is effortless between them.

They relearn each other, hands map bodies seeking the places that can draw a whimper from her and a groan from him.

He brings her to orgasm with his mouth pressed between her thighs. Back in the old days, he loved to spend an age with his tongue on her and now isn't any different. She tastes just like he remembers, like nectar from the gods he doesn't know how he's done without. His fingers press inside of her, his mouth at her clit. He pushes her towards the edge only to retreat again and again, repeating the torture until the formidable Melinda May begs to come. He allows her with his smirk buried in her center.

May breathes heavily, hands still buried in his hair as she trembles in the aftermath of a rather powerful orgasm. She doesn't have to open her eyes to know he's smug about it and secretly, she'll admit he has every right to be. No one has ever effected her quite like he does. Her body feels boneless and far more at ease than it has in a very long time. Here, she feels free enough and safe enough with Phil to let her walls down. Her every defence feels like it's shaking on the foundations she's built them upon. It's all because of him. 

With her hands still in his hair, she guides him up so she's able to kiss him, tasting herself in his mouth as she does. Curling her leg around his hip, she kisses him like there won't be a tomorrow to experience but she's forced to break away when he shifts, a gasp sounding against his mouth when he pushes inside. Inch by inch he slides until he's home, resting to the hilt inside of her.

"Fuck..." Coulson murmurs quietly against her cheek. She's even better than he remembered. Hot, tight and wet wrapped around him.

When he starts to move, it's slow and steady but his thrusts are hard and deep. He's making her feel him, every inch that slowly slides into her again and again. His movements are matched perfectly by her own, hips rising off the mats to meet his every stroke. His hands finds her wrists and he pins them down, there's a second where his hold on her is possessive before his palms slide against her own and their fingers interlock together.

Coulson surrounds her and it's perfect. His weight above presses her down into the mats, it's welcome and reassuring.

In the dim light of the bus cargo bay, they move together as practised lovers do, in a rhythm long discovered years ago. Their bodies glisten with sweat, their ragged breathes fill the air accompanied by whimpers and moans, unconcerned about their team upstairs. Nothing matters except this. 

In the some ways, it's exactly like the old days they shared but then... it's not.

Things are understandably different now. They've been through too much and seen much more. Despite that, things have now changed once again. They've taken the step and crossed the line drawn all those years ago when they stepped back and stopped it all between them.

Now instead of looking back to the days of old, they look ahead at the new.

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading


End file.
